Pickpocket Picasso
by Ima Super Mute Ant
Summary: Remy Lebeau shows up at the Mutant High to spend some time with his closest friend and sister, Storm. But he discovers that maybe the xmansion isn’t the best place for him after all.
1. Prelude

Pickpocket Picasso

By: ISMA

Disclaimer: Sue me if you want, I'm on MOCK TRIAL!

Summary: Remy Lebeau shows up at the Mutant High to spend some time with his closest friend and sister, storm. But he discovers that maybe the x-mansion isn't the best place for him after all.

AN: YAY! This is the first multi chapter fic that I've ever finished. And I did the WHOLE THING before posting it. I want every one to know that this has NOT been edited and I dreadfully need a beta. Also, I portray Storm in a less than flattering light and I'm sorry, I really do like her. This fic starts out pretty good, but I must say, the ending sucks. If you edit for me I will give you mental chocolate and a moose.

Prelude:

_"Remy." Ororo said, looking sternly at the young man lying on her bed, "I will except your presence here. But there are some things I simply cannot condone."_

"_Dose are some pretty big words dere chere. What 'xactly are you saying?" He said with his trademark grin. Of course, he knew exactly what she was saying. But no one would ever get him to admit to such a thing. Ever._

_Ororo let out a frustrated sigh, "First." she said as she grabbed a robe and threw it over him. "Put on some clothes!"_

_Remy laughed and pulled the robe on, leaving it open so that it covered nothing. Ororo sighed again and wished for some aspirin, or some vodka. Luckily it was late enough for even Logan to be asleep. She had no wish to explain the naked man in her room to anyone, much less wolverine or _'goddess forbid'_ Kurt. An argument with her wonderful, caring, totally _faithful,_ boyfriend was the last thing she needed._

"_What if someone finds you like this?" She continued, glaring, "They'll assume you and I are. . ." _

"_Quoi? Going at it like monkeys? Doing de horizontal tango? Fuc-" _

"_Remy!"_

_Remy chuckled, but didn't move to finish his sentence. He had known Ororo long enough to be able to tell when she was about to snap. She was almost to that point, teetering on the edge of going into a rage and electrocuting him on the spot._

"_Second." She said, continuing her tirade as if she had never been interrupted, "You are not, I repeat _**not **_allowed to be in my room without my permission. What would Kurt think if he found you in here at all hours of the day and night!"_

"_Who's Kurt?" Remy asked, tipping his head to the side in a way that always reminded Ororo of a confused cat._

"_Thirdly. . ." She pretended he hadn't spoken._

"_Who's Kurt?" He asked again._

"_Remy. . ."_

"_Chere." He replied, giving her the 'big brother' look, "Who's Kurt._

"_My boyfriend." She relented with a downward look._

"_Boyfriend? You got a boyfriend and you didn't tell me? Chere! How can I be properly nosey and protective when you don' even tell me when you meet a guy? I feel so out of de loop." Remy gave her a look of mock-hurt._

"_It's not like I could have told me if I wanted to!" She said, refraining from yelling only because it would bring the whole house down upon their heads, "I don't know where you are, you never call, you never write. Goddess Remy, half the time I don't even know if your alive or not! I've been so worried about you." Big tears welled up in Ororo's eyes and a roll of thunder was heard in the distance. _

_Now Remy really did look hurt. "I'm sorry chere." He whispered, as if that was all he could say._

"_Which brings us to the real question." She said, resorting to their old 'pretend it didn't happen' tactics, "What the hell are you doing here?"_

"_Well Chere, dis is what happened. I was sitting in my nice 'partment and t'inking 'bout stuff when I realized dat I hadn't seen ma chere Stormy in a year. A year! Un an! Dat be a real fuc- long time." Remy said, quickly shying away from the swear when he noticed the homicidal look in Ororo's eyes._

"_An' so I decided to visit ma chere Stormy. Y'know, see how her life is goin'. And low and behold, Stormy got a boyfriend! I'm sure as hell glad I came." Remy grinned and flopped back on her bed. He hoped she would buy it. Dieu, how he hoped she would buy it._

"_Remy, I hope you do not think I am as stupid as your statement makes me think. Tell me who is trying to kill you." She didn't buy it._

"_No one's trying to kill me petite. Remy jus' need to. . . lay low for awhile." Ororo noted his change from first person to third person. He felt stressed, and he was lying._

"_That's alright Remy." She sighed, "You do not have to tell me." Remy relaxed visibly._

"_You do realize that as a member of the Guild I am not supposed to have any contact with you." Ororo said._

_Remy gave her his 'harmless thief' grin, "So you got de memo huh?"_

"_Yes," She replied, "They said something about pretending you are not there until you go away."_

"Yeah, de silent treatment is de worst. But chere, I got great news 'bout dat." Ororo merely raised an eyebrow and waited for his 'news'. If she was lucky, it wasn't something she could be arrested for.

"_Y'see, you ain't an active guild member."_

"_I am quite aware of that fact Remy." She said, a little annoyed that he would point out something so obvious._

"_Well den, dat makes you not _really_ a guild member. So de rules don't apply." _

_Storm smiled at him, her smile slowly grew into a grin. "Indeed they do not." She said, stifling a laugh. "Of course, there will be new rules Remy." She reminded him, "This is a _school_ after all."_

"_Mais oui chere." He replied, "I wouldn' doubt it."_

"_Good then. You must sleep in your _own_ room, after tonight. You will keep your dirty comments to yourself. The students are off limits. And no drinking, swearing, or smoking."_

_Remy opened his mouth as if to complain. Or, most likely, shoot off some sharp comment or other, but a stern look from Storm kept him quietly seated on the bed_

_Storm continued, "You will attend classes, you will_ not_ mention the guild to anyone, you will leave Kurt alone, and. . ." she glared harder, knowing that this final rule would be the one that cemented his stay at the mansion or sent him running for the nearest window. "You will not take any jobs during your stay here._

_Remy looked shocked. Yes, the other rules would be hard, harder than hard, but for him to give up _stealing_? He was all set to just up and leave. But. . . He had only just come, and he hadn't seen his chere in a _year!

_He sighed and looked at her, then at the open skylight above her, then back at her. "D'accord chere." He relented, " No jobs."_

"_In that case brother, I will find you a room in the morning." She said with a grin. Allowing him to crawl into bed next to her. Remy smiled as he wrapped his arms around his petite sour, it was worth it, he thought, just to hold her in his arms again. _


	2. Prank the First

AN: YAY! Second chapter! W00t! I AM SO HAPPY!

Stretch: I suppose you could call this an AU, I mean, it's the movieverse and Remy isn't even _in _the movieverse so that automatically makes it an AU. I made Storm a member of the guild simply because I knew that she was very close to Remy and that she was a thief. The brother-sister bond is more of a figurative thing that actually blood relations. I'm so glad you liked it  YAY! Please send me some more of your fantastic feedback!

Chapter 1:

Remy sat in Ororo's office as he waited for the final judgment from The X-men. Remy could practically hear the capital letters whenever someone said the word.

It had been approximately four hours, five minutes, and forty-two seconds since he had thought about, worked on, considered, taken, or done anything involved in a job. He was hoping the rumors were right and the first 24 were the hardest because his fingers had developed a twitch.

Ororo, followed by a group of uninteresting yet well-muscled individuals, entered the office. As usual, Remy only had eyes for his _soeur _any others where just pointless additions to the game that is life.

Introductions went around and Remy pretended to listen. He did notice however, that the infamous Kurt was nowhere to be seen. He sighed, now he had _nothing _to look forward to during this little meeting.

"…Probably doesn't _need_ to attend classes but it would probably be best for him to have some positive social interaction." Storm was saying, calmly to the bald guy in the wheel chair.

"Mais Stormy," Remy whined, even though he had already agreed to go to classes anyway, "I already got a degree, _deux_!"

"Remy," Storm replied, "That doesn't count."

"Why not?"

"Because it wasn't legal."

"So?"

"You didn't attend a _single_ class."

"I musta' been real smart then."

"You didn't even set foot in the collage!"

"I didn' set foot in a high school neither."

"How did you get a degree?" Scott (secretly named 'rod up ass' by Remy) asked naively. He had been watching Remy for the past twenty minutes and he did not like was he saw, a troublemaker. Jean, attending the meeting through their psychic link, watched closely but what she thought was hidden. Scott would wait and see what Jean thought; after all, she could read the kid's mind.

Remy gave him a big grin, one that showed all his teeth, and said, "Remy bought it, fare and square from de nice lady at Harvard, and anoder one from de nice lady at Princeton."

Wolverine whistled, "That must cost some serious cash, bub."

"Ah, mon ami," Remy replied, "dere was no money involved. In fact, I'd say _l'argent _was de farthest t'ing from dere minds." Remy grinned his 'I'm sexy and you know it' grin and leaned back a little in his chair, now fully in charge of the conversation.

Storm coughed and placed her hand on Remy's shoulder, squeezing just a little. It was their secret code for 'shut up your embarrassing me' and Remy took it in stride, swallowing the inappropriate comment he had been about to make.

"I'm sure," Bald Guy said in his calm 'yes that's your mind I'm reading' voice, " That we can fit Remy into some of the entry level classes, and we can see how he works out…"

"Entry level? Y' gonna put me in freshman classes? _Stormy!" _Remy looked pleadingly in Storm's direction with the best puppy eyes he could manage.

Storm sighed, but like anybody else she was putty when faced with The Amazing Puppy Eyes. She relented in a matter of seconds.

"I'm sure we can work out a schedule that can accommodate all of Remy's special talents." Storm said, "Perhaps more advanced classes in art, music, and literature, and math, science and history at the normal level."

Remy knew, unlike some students his age, that the choices they were making now would affect his life unlike anything else. Namely it would decide whether he was entertained or died or boredom. With that knowledge, Remy set himself in his very best poker face and began to haggle.

"I wan' advanced musical theory an' art history."

"Deal," Storm replied quickly, just as set in getting Remy to go to the classes she wanted as he was in doing the opposite, "But you're taking biology one, and regular level history."

"_D'accord_"

"…And pre-calc."

"Non, trigonometry."

"Calculus."

"Somet'ing wit Shakespeare and a deck of cards and I'll do whatever math you wan'"

"Done." Storm said, reaching out and shook Remy's hand heartily.

"Where's m'cards." He said, holding out his hand.

Storm, who had expected something like this to happen eventually, reached into her pocket and produced a cheap CVS-brand pack of cards, which she slapped into his hand.

"Y' know me so well _chere_." He said with a grin.

"And you drive an easy bargain." She replied.

"Only 'cause I love you an' your de most beautiful creature on de whole fu-reaking planet."

"Charmer." She grumbled, ignoring his swearing slip-up and blushing despite herself.

"I'm done den?" He asked.

"Yes my prince," She said, giving he a mocking bow, "You may retire to your chamber."

"C'n I retire to _your_ chamber?" He asked, grinning like a maniac.

"Not," She said as she pushed him out the door, "if you want to be buried with all your bits and pieces intact."

Remy planted a little kiss on her cheek just before she slammed the door in his face and turned back to her teammates, awaiting their judgment.

"He seems like a very… vital young man Ororo." The Professor said, steadily and calmly the way he said every thing, "But one thing bothers me…"

"Yes?" Ororo said.

"Are you and Remy…in some sort of relationship?" The Professor felt slightly embarrassed by the question, after all, Ororo's relationship with Kurt was blatantly obvious. But there was defiantly something there, and Charles Xavier was not a supporter of student-teacher affairs.

"What! Remy?" Ororo shocked everyone in the room by laughing out loud, "He's like my little brother! Trust me Professor, neither you nor Kurt has anything to fear."

Remy lay on his bed, staring at the perfectly smooth white ceiling. It had been approximately five hours, fifteen minutes, and twenty seconds since his last job-related thought. His fingers were twitching so madly that he doubted they could be seen as anything other than blurs. He was going through thievery withdrawal.

His two roommates were at classes (which he would start tomorrow). But he had met them briefly before they had rushed off to fourth period. The bed across from his belonged to Closeted Gay Guy, AKA the blond spiky-haired kid AKA Benny? No, wait, Bobby. Yeah, Bobby. Remy never knew why people did that spiky-hair-thing it seemed too much of an effort for too little hair. Still, he had to admit, CGG looked pretty damn good.

The other bed, all the way on the other side of the room, belonged to Tin Man. Remy had given up trying to day that kids name. Hell, couldn't even say the all-American 'Peter', much less his Russian equivalent.

Still, The Roomies where out doing their studious thing, and Remy was stuck lying on his bed with epileptic fingers. He rolled onto his side, hoping that the weight of his body would help the funny vibrating feelings in his hands. It didn't. But as Remy gazing out the window, he noticed something. A small glass keepsake, probably belonging to Tin Man, hung from the window, causing rainbows of light to shine across the room. It was so _shiny_! So very, very pretty. Before Remy could even acknowledge that he had moved he was holding it in his hands, turning it back and forth in the light.

As Remy held the prism an idea came to him. A wonderful, beautiful, _rotten_, idea. So great an idea it was, that Remy could barely keep from laughing insanely with joy. He ran to his bag and pulled out a sheet of paper and a pencil to begin planning. Life was beautiful and his hands were steady. After all, he had a _job_ to do.

"Where is my prism?" Piotr asked the next morning at the bright and early hour of seven AM. Remy was sitting on his bed, mourning the hours of sleep he had lost and cursing all and sundry. He barely registered Piotr's words.

"I dunno _homme_. Maybe it got stolen."

"Why would anyone want to take it? It was worthless."

"Den why do y' want it?" Remy asked, annoyed that Piotr was still talking while he was trying to sleep with his eyes open.

"It was a gift from my sister, _tovarich._ It was very dear to me."

"Well _mon brave_, Remy sure dat it'll show up eventually. Maybe we go get some breakfast now?" What Remy was really thinking was something along the lines of: 'coffee. Cooooffffeeeee. Coffeecoffeecoffee. _Merde_, I want coffee.'

"_Ja_," Piotr replied. Remy slung his arm around his new roommate and used the boy to support himself to the dining hall, where they were met with a spectacular sight. Hanging from almost invisible fishing wire, directly from the ceiling, were things. _Shiny _things.

Necklaces and rings and watches and even a hair clip or two hung in an inward moving spiral towards the center of the room. Among the cheap things that added to the whole, well, _shininess_, were wolverines dog tags, a set of diamond earrings that may or may not have belonged to anyone in the school, and the engagement rings belonging to two Scott and Jean Summers. Connected to each wire, up at the top where it wouldn't mess with the effect, were small white tags declaring the owner of the object.

In the very center of the spiral, and the dining hall, was Piotr's prism, hanging from the longest wire of all so that it stood out from all the others around it. Stuck to the prism was a simple yellow post-it declaring in flowing script:

Gambit:

The Pickpocket Picasso

Remy smiled, seeing the full affect of his labors in the light of the sun. It was beautiful. And, best of all, his fingers were utterly still and calm. He breathed in a deep sigh of relief and patted his pocket, which contained a Polaroid of his masterpiece, so that even when they took it down he would remember.

He had not thought, however, that they would be taking it down so soon. Everyone in the school stood in awe for a few moments, yet one girl saw a pair of butterfly hairclips that had previously been entombed in her jewelry box. She ran over with a cry of "those are _mine!_" and grabbed them, ripping them out of their moorings.

That sent off the stampede. Students ran to retrieve their stolen items, ripping out the beautiful piece of hard that had taken Remy a day an a night to complete. All his hard work, gone in less than five minutes. He felt like crying.

Even after all the students had gone to their breakfasts and nothing of Remy's work was left, Piotr stood holding the prism on its string and looking at the little post-it. He crumpled the note and stuffed it in his pocket, but left the prism there just a little bit longer, so that he could remember all the lights shining on the walls.

Remy grinned. It was beautiful, just that one little glass object. At least his hands weren't itching. And he knew they wouldn't, not for another few weeks at least. But he already had something else planned, and he was ready to bring it into action.


	3. Prank the Second

AN: YAY! Reviews! This makes me happier than a can of paint! Mental chocolate to everyone!

Silent Doom: Wow, good feedback, I'm impressed. I really do desperately need a beta reader, please email me if you can do it. There are only two or three more chapters left so I'm sorry you weren't able to edit this one.

Anonymous-person-who-knows-about-Russian-and-German: I'm sorry I got them mixed up. It could be that I forgot who was talking, I forgot what language they speak, or that it was simply a typo, either way I'm sorry for my mix-up.

Ishandahalf: YAY! I love the word 'droll'! I'm so glad you liked it 

Enchantedlgiht: thank you so much for you praise! Unfortunately this wont be a romy, I'm tired of romy, I have sworn never to write another romy again. There really won't be any pairing for this, I just wanted Remy in his awesome Remyness.

Annnyyyyy way, thank y'all for the reviews, sorry again for the mistakes in the upcoming chapter. You can blame me. It's all my fault. Everything is my fault. Except zebras, I don't know what crazy bastard thought of those.

Chapter 2:

"… So, Here we have a painting displaying all the characteristics of Classical artwork. Can anyone tell me what these factors are?" Dr. McCoy said, displaying the artwork with a click of the projector.

Remy, who had probably taken this course five times in various forms lay his head down on the desk and suppressed the urge to drool. It was boring, incredibly _boring_. It figured that this was what Remy got for chose a subject he was actually interested in.

He would have suggested a higher-level class, but since the student population was so small they barely had enough kids to fill Art History: 1. A higher level just wasn't an option.

By the time the bell rang, the almighty signal for the herds of adolescents to commune and imbibe large amounts of unidentifiable lunchmeats (he had been listening to Dr. McCoy _way _too much), Remy's brain was well on its way to melting and pouring out his ears. The other eight kids in the class exited in a rush, but Remy remained a couple more seconds before rising. He was slow today; after all, if he had been on his normal schedule he would still be asleep.

As he moved sluggishly to the door, he found his nose buried in three inches of dark blue fur.

"I didn' do it." He mumbled automatically.

"No Remy, your not in trouble. I simply wished to discuss with you some matters that have been prying on my mind for the past week or so."

"hanh?"

"It seems to me that you, my Cajun compatriot, are well beyond the level of expertise that I expect from students attending my class. In fact, I might go so far as to say that your knowledge in this subject is _beyond_ that of mine."

"Y' point?" Remy said, not wasting anytime with the large vocabulary that McCoy displayed with frightening frequency.

"My point," Beast continued, "I that I will allow you to abstain from attending my classes if you write me a bi-weekly thesis on the painting, artist, style, or period of your choice."

"Y' mean I get to skip your class if I do research?"

"Precisely my friend." McCoy said, grinning from ear to ear, "Of course, your studies may require that you travel outside the campus in order to view the artwork in person."

"Vraiment? Hell yeah! I mean… _mais oui_!" Remy was at the macho-male equivalent of jumping up and down and squealing. His red-on-black eyes were literally glowing and his spine became straighter than McCoy had seen in their short acquaintance.

Not only did this mean Remy no longer had to sit through any more long, boring lectures, he also got to do something that interested him and, joy of joys, he got a whole hour and a half added to his schedule for…other interests.

McCoy's grin grew even bigger, if that was possible, and he stood aside to let Remy exit the classroom. Remy walked down the hall with a spring in his step, a song in his heart, and a twitch in his fingers.

Remy sat in the dining hall, working hard on a sketch for his newest project. His mind, though, was neither on his plans or his food. It was settled somewhere on the other side of the cafeteria, seated next to a blue guy with a tail. He sighed, if he couldn't keep his mind on his work then he might as well deal with Stormy. After all, she was the one who had been avoiding him.

In fact, he had been here for over a week and had only seen his _soeur_ late at night when he paid a visit to her room. This would not do. He had come to this damn school to see her. He had left his (admittedly boring) wanders to be close to her. And he hadn't said more than a word to her in four days.

Remy slowly folded his plans and stowed them away in a pocket of his duster. He stood, pushing his chair in and carrying his tray of uneaten food to the trash before moving deliberately to Storm's table.

"_Salut_ Stormy." He said, throwing an arm around her shoulders and stealing a piece of biscuit off her plate.

"Good morning Remy," She said as she pulled him arm off her and scooted just a couple inches away form him. Remy frowned, she may protest his usual kisses and inappropriate comments but a simple_ hug_? It hurt, but Remy would never say as much.

"I would like you to meet Kurt." She said, nodding to the blue fuzz-ball next to her. He nodded at Remy and murmured a polite _"guten morgen_". Remy's eyes narrowed and glowed ever so faintly. He resisted the urge to sneer at the other mutant, simply turning back to his _soeur _without mentioning her new…friend. Still, Storm would not let her boyfriend be ignored.

"Remy is something of an unofficial brother to me." She told Kurt with a flirtatious smile that made Remy's blood boil.

"Unofficial? _Mais non chere!_ Y'r a totally legitimate member of de clan Lebeau!"

"Nothing in clan Lebeau is legitimate." Storm said with a chiding smile.

"Sure it is! My birt' certificate's legitimate, an' my marriage license…"

Storm's eyes narrowed just a little bit at the mention of Belle. Remy knew that Storm disliked his wife, in fact she hadn't even attended the fateful wedding in which his entire life had been ripped to pieces. He wondered if things would have been different if she had been there.

Normally he wouldn't even mention Belle, especially since the mention of a wife would ruin any chance he had with the girls at the school. But it bugged Storm, and right now he wasn't feeling very charitable towards his sister.

"Remy," Storm whispered, leaning in so that Kurt wouldn't hear, "She doesn't exit. Comprends?"

Remy looked deeply into her eyes for a moment. Did she mean it? Stormy the goddess of all that is mighty-and-totally-legal was asking him to _lie_? It was mind-boggling. Nonetheless, she wanted him to keep Belle a secret, and that's the way it would stay.

There was an awkward silence in which Kurt eyes the two overly much and Storm did not even look in Remy's direction. The bell rang yet again, saving all three of them from their social blunders, and Remy practically ran out of the room. He had one of the infamous 'danger room' sessions next, and he wouldn't miss it for the world.

This was to be Remy's very first danger room session. Previously, he had had a free period in that blissful hour between lunch and calculus. But Mr. Summer had seen him wandering around the mansion with a water gun and a maniacal grin and made sure there was something else to occupy his time. That man was such a prick.

Remy entered the large metal room where various teenagers were doing stretches and practicing simple martial arts moves. Remy's heart dropped. He had thought that perhaps he could fine a place to exercise his, obviously, superior skills. But it appeared he had been signed up for a supped-up gym class.

"Remy t'ink he going to need a harder class." He muttered.

"Danger Room sessions are organized by age, not skill level." Said a gravely voice behind him.

Remy jumped almost a foot in the air and spun around, only to come face to… well, air with wolverine. The man was so short he didn't even reach up to Remy's shoulders; it would have been comical if he didn't have three blades protruding from his knuckles.

"_Salut_ Logan." Remy said, quickly drawing back into his cool persona.

"Shut up Swamp Rat." The man growled. He stalked away, expecting Remy to follow, without another word.

"First were gonna do a test, see which level you're at. Your either a beginner, and intermediate, or your doing one on one with me." Wolverine said. He barely looked around to see if Remy was following. He eventually came to a part of the gym that had been covered in soft matting. He removed his shoes before stepping onto the mat and facing Remy.

"You ever done sports?" He asked, turning his gaze on Remy for probably the first time. It was not a fun experience, Remy felt like the man was burning a hole in him with his stare.

"_Qui_," Remy replied, keeping his shields up and his face blank despite Logan's interrogation, "Gymnastics mostly, a little martial arts. Dis and dat, y'know." Remy shrugged."

"Yeah, I think I got an idea." Wolverine said. He moved into a classic defending pose and raised an eyebrow.

"Attack boy." He commanded.

Remy looked at him. Paused. Shrugged. And struck.

It was so fast that even Remy, who was participating in the 'sparring match', had trouble keeping up with what was going on. They were both using every dirty trick at their command. Including ripping out hair, pushing back cuticles, and many blows to inappropriate places.

The students who had been practicing nearby came to watch. They gathered in a circle around the two combatants.

Remy, pressed back increasingly and slowly loosing stamina, was forced to pull out one of his many secret weapons; his adamantium bo-staff. It extended and crashed into Wolverine's skull before the semi-feral man could notice its existence.

Wolverine lay on the mat for a little over a minute, breathing heavily and bleeding from the nose. Remy stood just a few feet away. He was so tired that he was using his bo to keep himself from falling over. Sweat dripped off his nose and landed with a light tap on the mat at his feet.

"Weapons aren't allowed at school Cajun." Logan growled as he wiped the blood from his face.

"Y' point?"

Wolverine was up and facing Remy in a second, showing no more signs of fatigue. "Hand it over."

Logan reached out for the staff and ripped it from Remy's hands before the boy could protest.

"Hey! Dat was a gift!" Remy reached for it but Logan simply collapsed it and placed it in his pocket. He turned to the students who had gathered around them and began his usual bellowing, sending them all running back to their previous activities.

Click There was a gasp from the surrounding students. Logan turned slowly only to find himself nose-to-barrel with a Smith and Wesson handgun. All the playfulness was gone from his eyes.

"Give it back." He said in a monotone, glaring daggers. Wolverine was shocked. Was it really safe to have accepted someone as volatile as this into the mansion?

Mentally, he contacted the Professor and hoped the man would react in time. He certainly didn't want to get his brains blown out. Not that it would kill him, it would just hurt a hell of a lot.

"Give it back." Remy repeated. Wolverine growled but relented, there was no need to frighten the children with the image of his almost-dead body. He handed the collapsed staff back to Remy, who un-cocked the gun and placed it back in his pocket. His smile reappeared like magic. "Merci, mon brave." He said with a grin.

"Listen punk…" Wolverine started, only to be cut short by the sound of the Danger room doors opening. Ororo and the Professor, responding to Wolverine's mental alarm, rushed into the oversized gym like they were being chased by F.O.H ninjas.

"Remy!" Ororo cried, running up and stopping just shot of slapping him across the face. "What the _hell _were you thinking?"

Remy winced. Ororo's tone was way over the edge of 'goddessly fury' and moving towards 'homicidal rage'. Her eyes had clouded over and Remy could have bet that there was a hurricane underway outside. He shrank back a little, hoping against hope that he would see the next day with all limbs intact.

"He took m' staff." He muttered, sounding a little more childish than he had hoped. "Y' know…"

"I don't care what your rules are!" She snapped, "You pulled a weapon on a _teacher_ in a _school_! Do you know how serious that it?"

Remy's froze at the _I don't care_ that exited her mouth. She didn't care? She didn't give a damn about the laws of The Guild, _their _guild? Didn't she know what that bo staff _meant?_

"Dat staff is a sign of my _rank_," He growled, low enough that no one other than wolverine could hear what they were saying. "It means I'm a _master_ damnit! Remy worked too freakin' hard to t'row his life away at de turn of a hat. I ain't like _you."_

Remy saw Ororo wince, and instantly regretted his words, not that he would admit it. She glared, getting angrier by the minute, and Remy could feel himself quaking in his boots. He was considering apologizing when Ororo's lips turned upward. It was the smile of a particular vindictive sibling, and Remy was probably the only one in the school who had seen it before.

"Very well brother," She said in a calm voice that scared the shit out of Remy, "if you wish to remember your roots, then I suggest we contact them." From the depths of her loose dress Storm pulled a small compact cell phone and began dialing. Remy let out a horrified gasp.

"No! _Chere_ don't do it! Remy begging you, please. I love you an' m' sorry, I'll never do it again. I'll weed y'r garden an' wash y'r windows, I'll be nice to y'r boyfriend _please_." Remy begged. He threw his arms around her shoulders and pleaded, while trying to remove the cell phone from her grip. She easily maneuvered away and pushed the 'send' button, giving Remy an evil grin.

"I don' wanna talk to him dammit! Don' you dare try t' put him on de phone. Are you listening to me?"

The other students watched with curiosity, what had started as a terrifying confrontation was starting to look a little entertaining. Jubilee, who was standing close enough to hear what they were saying but far enough away not to be noticed, practically jumped with joy over what she was witnessing. What great gossip fodder.

"_Bonjour _Henri." Storm said smugly, "Is your father there? It is a matter of utmost importance."

"Storm! _Ororo,_ please…"

"Ah, Jean-Luc it is good to hear your voice. No nothing is wrong, there has just been a little… incident. Yes sir. I'll let you talk to him. Here you go." Storm looked over at Remy, who was visibly pale and looked at the cell phone as it were going to explode.

"I told you! I don' want to…. _Pere_!" Remy had no choice as the phone was thrust onto his ear. The deep, slightly ominous voice of his adopted father could be heard clearly on the other end.

"Y' pulled me out of an important meeting Remy."

"_Désolé." _Remy said.

"I haven' heard from you in months."

"_Désolé_" He said again.

"If Storm hadn' told me y' were going to be at de school I woulda gone mad wit worry."

"_Désolé_-wait, she did _what_?" For a couple seconds Remy felt like turning around and slapping his sister across the face. She had kept contact with _him_?

"It's all in de past now _mon fils_. What I wan' to know is _what de hell happened_."

"ummm, well y' see its kinda a long story. Y' don' wan' to know."

"Gimme de condensed version." Jean-Luc growled.

"Remy sorta pulled a gun on de teacher…" Remy said, drooping as he awaited his father's punishment.

"_Quoi?_ Idiot! Is dis de way y'r going to represent de guild? I can' believe ' would do somt'ing dis irresponsible! If y' were here right now I'd take it out o' y'r _hide_!'

"He took my staff!" Remy whined into the phone, "An' it's not like it'd hurt de man, he's got a healing factor!"

"Dats beside de point. I didn't raise you to act like dis _Gambit_." His father lectured. _You didn't raise me at all_, Remy thought angrily. He would never say such things out loud but the unfairness of the situation was bringing out feeling he had tried to forget. After all, it had been a little over a year since he had left home.

"You better watch yourself boy, or I might have to come and make sure you behave." With that, Remy found himself holding a dead line.

He glared at the phone before tossing back to Storm, "_Putain_" He growled. Remy stomped out of the room, leaving a startled student body to wonder at his passing.

Remy stormed into his room and threw himself on the bed. It had been a _terrible_ day. He was glad that it was over, of course, tomorrow would be another day filled with lectures and disappointed looks. He would allow himself to be angry at Storm later. At the moment, he had to finish his newest _piece d'art_.

He had his plans laid out and ready when Piotr entered the room, equipped with a sketchpad and his pencil case. He briefly glanced at what Remy was doing but then moved to his side of the room with a barely audible "good afternoon".

Remy smiled and ruffled through the many pieces of 8 by 11 paper. He was going to need a little more. His good mood was greatly restored as he quickly trotted out of his room, leaving Piotr to gaze at his back and get back to his painting.

The next morning, all seemed to be well. Or at least it did to Piotr. He and Remy were seated together in the cafeteria, enjoying a comfortable silence. Neither of them were very interested in their food. Remy was engrossed in a book on renaissance art, while Piotr was doing the shading on his latest portrait of Kitty Pride.

"Fra Filippo?" Piotr asked, barely looking up from his work to see the cover of Remy's book.

"_Oui_, he's good." Remy replied in monotone.

"Da."

"'S dat Pride?" He asked

"Da."

"She's hot."

"Indeed."

They lapsed back into silence, having filled any need for conversation, the two friends continued to ignore each other in an amiable manner. That is, until Bobby Drake ran into the room and began telling an outrageous story about something being wrong with cerebro.

Students ran out of the cafeteria, eager to get a look at what had happened to the big round room. Remy and Piotr got up and slowly followed the crowd, all of whom were pushing into the elevator despite the attempts of a harassed Jean to send them back to breakfast.

Remy and Piotr took their time, but eventually arrived in the cold, metallic, downstairs. The door to cerebro had been left open to allow teachers to come and go, but none of the students were allowed in the doors. Remy pushed to the front of the crowed and looked through the opening, grinning when he saw his newest piece.

Papering every square inch of cerebro's massive interior were pictures. Not the type taken by a camera, but the type drawn by a child. In fact, every single one of those pictures had been drawn by children in the institute, or found out in New York when Remy had been wandering around. Little stick figures with purple hair and great big scribbles of nothing adorned the walls. They were all on construction paper and, when viewed all at once, they made up a big, yellow, smiley face. On one single piece of paper in the far left corner, almost out of sight, were the words:

Gambit:

The Pickpocket Picasso

Remy couldn't help but grin. It brought a comforting and childish simplicity to Xavier's cold mansion. It made him think of…

"Innocence." Said a voice behind him. Remy turned to look at his friend, who had been standing behind him, and raised a questioning eyebrow.

"It looks like innocence." Piotr repeated, "It's cute, da?"

Remy grinned and nodded, lightened by Piotr's approval. He turned and jogged back to his room. After all, he didn't want to be there when Stormy found out.


	4. Prank the Third

AN: Well, this is almost it. Short, I know. I may or may not write an epilogue depending on what people think. Gazoogles and a muffin of thanks to Silent Doom, who edited this chapter. She actually knows Russian  I would like to tell everyone that I'm sorry I'm suck a lazy writer and this is so short. I am lazy… lazylazylazylazylazy…..and I don't like to work either.

Zetabee: Oh? _I_ have an obsession? At least I don't have a sickening fascination with actors whose names begin with KE and end in ANU. Thank you for being my best friend you crazy stalker girl 

Lovebuggy: Don't we all eventually have the urge to glomp him? Yes. Yes we do. Thank you for the review. I hope you catch him.

Demonic Gambit: Why thank you 

Lollipop: No.

Enchanted light: YAY! Thank you for your review. I hope the Remyness suffices.

Silent Doom: Thank you for your review and again THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR BETAING! I'm so glad to have someone who actually cares to edit for me. hugs

Chapter 3

Remy carefully maneuvered himself around the furniture in Wolverine's darkened room. It was nearing midnight and the feral mutant had yet to return to the mansion. Remy was glad. Stealing from people's rooms while they were asleep proved little challenge but it would have been almost impossible to steal from Wolverine while the feral man was in the room.

He moved through Wolverine's belongings with an almost unnatural attention to detail. His hair was caught up in a black swimming cap and his hands were incased in rubber gloves. He slipped a few items into his bag and pulled out a bottle of Febreeze, liberally spraying the room to hide his scent before he left.

Next, he moved to the Professor's room, and then the room shared by Scott and Jean, creeping silently by the psychics without being noticed. He avoided Storms room simply because he had everything he needed from her already. He snuck down to the girl's dormitory and moved systematically through every room, stopping only once to admire Paige's see-through nightgown. He snapped a couple photos as he left the room.

After a brief but beneficial sweep of the boy's dorm, Remy was done. He returned to his room where Piotr and Bobby were snoring away peacefully. The rest of the night was spent carefully sorting and storing his newly acquired items. Remy had hidden the last piece by the time the sun was peeking trough the blinds. Remy fell into bed and was almost instantly asleep.

The alarm went off at 7:00 that morning and Remy had had less than an hour of sleep. He rolled over and pulled a pillow over his head, ignoring both the sunlight streaming into the room and the incessant sound of the alarm.

"Remy _tovarisch?_" Piotr said as he gently shook his friend by the shoulder, "It is time to get up, _da_? Remy?"

"I don't think he's getting up Pete." Bobby said sullenly. He was standing in front of the mirror and carefully spiking his hair. "He probably spent last night with some girl. I mean, he was out all night, I didn't even hear him come in."

"I do not think that is a very nice thing to say Bobby." Piotr said, turning away from Remy's sleeping form in order to pick up his sketchpad.

"It's true!" Bobby replied, "He hits on anything that _moves_. I heard him flirting with _Scott_ the other day."

"Still…"

"Forget about it, Pete," Bobby said as they moved to the door and out into the hallway, "people like that have only one thing on their minds."

Remy's eyes snapped open when he heard what Bobby had said. He knew how most of the students saw him, a dangerous and volatile womanizer. It hurt, just a little, but Remy wrote it off as jealousy and ignored it as best he could, after all, he had so many more important things to worry about.

Remy stood in the Renoir exhibit at the Museum of Fine Arts in Boston MA. He had taken one of the bikes in order to get to the exhibit in time and was hoping no one would notice his absence. It was a Saturday; no one would be looking for him for another 48 hours, a perfect chance for a little road trip.

He gazed up at _Moulin De la Galette _with amazement. It reminded him of the old Guild picnics he would attend. People everywhere, dancing, drinking and talking. He sighed happily, pulled out his notebook and started taking notes on Renoir's style. At that moment, he would have bet half his Swiss bank account that there was a goofy smile on his face and an almost insanely happy gleam in his eye. The only thing that could compare to looking at artwork of this quality would be to steal artwork of this quality.

His joy was soon shattered, however, by a cry that echoed throughout the deep, usually silent, halls that were normally one of the only places of recluse he had.

"Remy Etienne Lebeau!" Storm strode into the Renoir room with a wind at her heels and goddessly fury in her eyes. The few other people in the room turned and stared as she grabbed Remy by the ear, giving him just enough time to grab his bag and notebook before she pulled him out of the building to the front lawn where she could give him a loud and comprehensive lecture.

"Ssshhhh! _Chère_! Dis is a _museum_!"

"No, _padnat_, this is the lawn in front of the museum."

"Still," he said, "People come here for quiet, t' relax and…"

Storm burst out with a cold laugh and dragged him towards the parking lot, talking all the way. "You can't expect me to believe that you would be here merely to enjoy the artwork, Remy. I know you too well and I will not stand idly by as you plan another one of your heists!"

"Stormy, y' know I wouldn' pull a heist after I promised you not to." Remy whined as Storm pulled him to her car and threw him into the passenger seat.

With a screech of tires, they sped out onto the road, headed back to the school. Remy wanted to complain, or explain, or _something_. But the look on Storm's face warned him that she was in no mood for 'excuses'. He stayed silent for the entire ride back to New York, contemplating his latest project.

When they arrived at the mansion, Remy jumped out of the car and walked softly to his room like the thief he was. He pulled out the boxes that contained his project and began preparing; this would be his greatest masterpiece yet.

It was six-thirty AM and Remy was just a little bit behind schedule. He had just placed the last photo in the very center of his mosaic. It completed the picture he had formed on the huge wall of the cafeteria. Remy was sure that only a very select few would know what the symbol he had formed on the wall represented. It was a cross with three horizontal lines, the last one slanted downward. Remy wasn't sure if it was a religious reference or just something that had evolved from the letter "T", but it was the official symbol of the New Orleans Thieves Guild. Remy used to have it tattooed on his wrist.

He smiled fondly at the pictures that formed his mosaic. They were all taken from people in the institute. Some of them were pictures from birthdays, weddings, and family gatherings. Some of his favorites were pictures of his own: a picture from his fifteenth birthday, one of his just after his adoption, and one from his guild ceremony that featured his entire family. There was also a single photo, hidden amid the others, that featured Remy and his 'friend' Jacob Gavin engaging in something indecent.

There were pictures of Storm as well: Storm with the Professor, Storm with Kurt, Storm alone in her garden. Remy wondered sadly why there were no pictures of Storm with _him_.

Just as he was noticing this, the first wave of students trampled down for breakfast. Remy swore vigorously in French. He had hoped to get out of the room before the spectators came. That and the fact that he was now trapped hanging from the ceiling by a wire.

"Dude!" shouted an unnamed student, pointing up to the mosaic and Remy. Remy sigh and forced himself to accept the fact that his day was ruined.

There was a crowd gathering and Remy switched into full 'performer mode', dangling upside down from his wire and swinging back and forth as the crowd grew larger. He didn't speak until Storm appeared, still wearing her sheer nightgown, with murder in her eyes.

"Stormy!" He crowed with feigned delight, slowly stopping the spinning and preparing himself for a scream-fest.

Instead of screaming she simple gazed up at him in what Remy recognized as the worst possible emotion ever: disappointment. She was as quiet as the grave and the students became quiet as well, sensing the tension between the two.

Remy found himself getting angry. The events of the past few months weighed heavily on him, reminding him of how Ororo had treated him recently.

"Well?" He said in an almost aggressive tone, "What do y' t'ink?"

"Remy… I…" Remy perked up at her hesitation, maybe she liked it, he thought; maybe she thought it was as beautiful as he did.

"I want you to leave."

"What!" Remy shouted down at her, "Y' want…"

"I want you out. Gone. Get lost, Remy, you're ruining _everything_!" This was the closest Remy had ever seen Storm to crying. She glared up at him and a total hush fell over the students. No one had ever been kicked out of Xavier's before.

"I can't _believe_ you Remy!" Ororo shouted, "I'm giving you a place to live and learn and succeed and all you do is steal from my students and publicly _humiliate_ me! You can't even be decent to my boyfriend." That was the last straw and for the first time in quite a while, Remy allowed himself to get truly angry.

"I came here for _you_, 'Ro!" he shouted back. "Not for school or a place t' sleep. If I wanted dat, I would go t' college! I came here t' spend time wit y_ou_ and all y' do is keep me from being who I am."

"I'm trying to help you lead a better life…" Storm continued. With that one sentence, Remy really blew up.

"Dis _was_ my life!" he shouted, pointing at a photo of his wedding. "An' I t'ought you were part of it. But I guess I was wrong." Before she had a chance to respond, Remy turned to the students, intent on _hurting_ her.

"Yo! Mutant High!" he called out. "Dis is _mon chère_ _petite soeur_, and she's supposed to be dere for me, y'know." He looked out at the crowd and pointed to one of the photos nearest him.

"Dis is my seventeenth birt'day. I had people coming from _Japan_ t' the party, but Stormy was too busy grading quizzes. An' here's a picture of my weddin', t'ree weeks after dat birt'day, an' _Stormy_ didn' come 'cause of midterms.

"An' finally," he shouted, pulling up his sleeve to show his wrist to the crowd, "dis is where dey burned my family tattoo off when dey kicked me out de day of de wedding. I'd ask you if y' sympathized, Stormy, but I heard you had yours lazered off two years ago."

Storm was crying, and it brought him no satisfaction at all. Neither of them spoke as Remy leaped from his perch and somersaulted to the ground. Neither of them said a word as Remy ran up to his room, grabbed his bag, and left just as silently as he had come.

None of the students said a word, and Storm ran from the room in tears. They all moved to get their pictures from the wall, but not before Piotr Rasputin snapped a couple photos and whispered into the air,

"It is beautiful, _da_?"


End file.
